


Running into Ghosts

by naboru



Category: Transformers Generation One
Genre: Angst, Fluff, Gen, Implied Relationships, M/M, Plug and Play Sexual Interfacing, Smut, Suspense
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-01
Updated: 2014-06-08
Packaged: 2018-01-27 20:03:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,687
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1720862
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/naboru/pseuds/naboru
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Vortex and Blast Off have an encounter in space, and Vortex learns that there are some things you can’t fight.</p><p>Vortex, Blast Off, Skycraze (OC), Crackdown (OC) / suspense, implied relationship, smut (of the pnp kind), fluff, angst  / PG-13</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> **Continuity:** G1 [part of the [Dysfunction AU](http://community.livejournal.com/lost_carcosa/19574.html#cutid1)], pre-war  
>  **Rating:** PG-13  
>  **Disclaimer:** Sadly, nothing is mine.  
>  **Beta:** ultharkitty

Vortex leant back in the co-pilot’s seat on Blast Off’s flight deck, and tensed.

It wasn’t the artificial gravity or the stale air that made him uncomfortable. It was the whirling portal in front of them, coming closer and growing bigger in the shuttle’s front window.

Vortex wasn’t scared of space-jumps. Travelling through a space bridge was something he’d done often enough. But it was different if the space bridge was in actual space, and not a connection from one planet to another. It just felt off.

Blast Off had once made the effort to explain space portals to him, but Vortex hadn’t quite understood, or got why they were called a different name simply because they weren’t on-planet.

The shuttle around him shuddered, and caused Vortex’s rotors to become almost painfully rigid.

The whirl in front of them was blue and yellow, mixing colours that looked weirdly synthetic.

When Blast Off entered, even Vortex sensed the pull. He focused on the shuttle’s control console. Although he knew Blast Off hardly got any sort of body language, Vortex was certain the shuttle knew Vortex didn’t like it.

The flickering colours in his peripheral vision passed at a constant speed.

It was only at the moment Blast Off noticeably slowed down that Vortex looked up.

This wasn't good.

Everything Blast Off did that wasn’t routine was a bad thing. Vortex had learned that the hard way, and he knew it was better to let the shuttle do whatever needed to be done without questioning it.

But he still wanted to know what was going on. “What’s wrong?” 

Blast Off didn’t need to reply; Vortex already saw what was out there.

Something in the pattern of steadily shifting chaotic colours moved.

Vortex rebooted his optics.

Blast Off’s frame whined as metal tensed.

“What the frag is that?” Vortex asked, but didn’t expect an answer.

Arms, or tendrils, something hardly describable with the words he knew dove into the tunnel, making it look like stones creating waves when thrown in liquid.

At first it was one, then two, then five in the upper left corner of Blast Off’s front window. They were hardly visible, only noticeable when they distorted the colours, and then morphed. Half-transparent arms that split and mingled again and reached out to them.

Blast Off rolled, and the tentacles moved to the lower edge of the window.

“Hey, Thrusters,” Vortex kicked the console. “What the frag is that?”

“Don’t,” Blast Off said over speakers, but it didn’t sound annoyed, just focused. “Just don’t.”

Vortex didn’t quite know what he shouldn’t do, so he kept quiet.

The tentacles moved, but Vortex wasn’t sure if ‘tentacles’ was the right word. They were amorphous, and seemed unreal, coming closer every astrosecond.

“Frag,” Blast Off spat, speakers crackling, and Vortex was pressed into his seat. The shuttle accelerated further, the burn of thrusters noticeable even in the cockpit. Vortex clung to his seat.

Suddenly, one of the tendrils was next to them. It wavered close to Blast Off’s side window, and Vortex was just about to warn the shuttle.

The words stuck in his vocaliser.

The tentacle entered the flight deck. It passed through Blast Off’s cockpit wall like a white-grey shimmering mist, only solid. 

Vortex jumped up.

Then it was gone.

“Frag. Frag! What is that?! Frag!” A sickening dread crawled from Vortex' tank up his back and into his rotors. “Blast Off, what the frag is that?” He wanted an answer, but all the shuttle’s speakers uttered was a staticky whine.

Blast Off’s erratic flight path was only visible if Vortex looked outside the window; the artificial gravity kept Vortex him in place. And as long as they didn't hit something solid, the ‘copter wouldn’t feel it. It was disconcerting, and his processor was hardly able to process the motion.

Another tendril passed through the flight deck, only inches from touching Vortex.

Blast Off’s speakers crackled.

The tendril gave his processor something else to cope with. The motion sickness forgotten, panic took over.

Vortex stumbled back; his rotors hit the wall next to the door to the cargo hold.

“Sit down,” Blast Off said. His tone wasn’t reassuring, and Vortex completely ignored it. He opened the door, and stepped into the cargo area.

An abrupt movement made Vortex stagger, and then freeze. Another tentacle was in the cargo hold, going through the metal like it wasn’t there.

“What the pit is that? Blast Off!” Vortex raised his arm. He needed to shoot that thing. He needed to get it away from them.

His gun charged.

“ _Don’t shoot!_ ” Now, Blast Off sounded panicky, too. “We’re in space, you stupi~ argh-“

Another tentacle entered, and the ground jolted again. This time, Vortex almost fell. He could find purchase on the wall next to him before he sank to his knees.

“Go back to the flight deck!” the shuttle spat, but it was too late.

A tendril passed right through Vortex.

For that moment, time seemed to stop. He couldn’t move, he couldn’t think; a cold dread spread over every inch in his frame. He had the feeling of endless torture and pain, and it was nothing he appreciated. It was the thought of painful sensations that for once he didn’t enjoy and were linked with despair and death.

The tentacle passed completely through, but the feeling remained. It made Vortex tense, and even thinking was difficult. He struggled to look up, but his optics couldn’t even adjust before a strong force hit his side.

Vortex was flung against the cargo hold wall, it dented, a rotor bent, and Vortex crashed down.

Blast Off said something, but all Vortex could hear was the ringing of his audials, and the pained squeal from the speakers.

Vortex tried to get up. He almost succeeded, but what he saw in his blurry vision caused him to freeze once more. One of the tentacles spread, the thinner one slithering towards him in the air. He tried to move away, but behind him was the wall, and suddenly, next to him way too close, there was the thicker tendril.

Vortex didn’t want to run through it. He didn’t want to experience that again.

The thinner tendril wrapped around his arm before he could do anything. It pulled him away, and smashed him against the other wall.

Vortex landed on his front, and all he could do for the next few astroseconds was twitch. Even the solid touch felt wrong.

As soon as he got to all fours, Vortex almost sank down again as another jolt ran through Blast Off. 

Vortex vented heavily, panic making it hard to keep his mind coherent. He couldn’t shoot those things. He couldn’t even grab them when they weren’t consistently solid. Helplessness paralysed him, and he had to watch as the three tentacles became a single thick one.

He couldn’t do anything as it hit the ceiling and made Blast Off’s engine stutter.

He couldn’t do anything when it crashed down again.

The ground shook, and then Blast Off screamed.

He couldn’t do anything when the tentacle sliced the wall, tore the metal open and cut energon lines like slicing through wax. The pink liquid gushed out, and Blast Off’s cry made Vortex’ fuel pump stop.

Now he felt despair without the tendrils touching him.

They would die. The sudden realisation was so shocking, Vortex noticed too late a tentacle approaching him.

He jerked away, his head hit the wall, but from behind, through Blast Off’s metal, another tendril wrapped around him, around his waist.

Time stopped anew, and as it started flowing again, it was so very slow.

Blast Off’s engine gave a deep throbbing rev, the tendril moved to the rear end, and Vortex was dragged over the floor.

The tendril clung tight as Blast Off accelerated even more, and most of it was gone, was outside. Only the part wrapped around Vortex stayed inside, crushing the ‘copter against the back wall.

Vortex’ optics flickered when it was as though he would break in two. His rotor hub and mechanisms in his back creaked, and the metal on his waist bent.

Then it was gone.

It was dark. The lights in the cargo hold were out, and only the steady blink of a warning light shone through a window. 

The shuttle soon passed it. 

Vortex slumped.

A familiar moon appeared in one of the windows. Vortex couldn’t remember when he’d been as happy as he was now to be back.

They didn’t speak. Vortex didn’t move.

He only tensed again when the rattling began and he was pressed against the rear end as Blast Off re-entered atmosphere. Drops of energon hit Vortex like a faint rain, and the plasma flames outside filled the room with a red glow. In the ruddy light, the torn metal and the spilling energon appeared like a sadistic piece of art. Vortex would have liked the view if he hadn’t known it was Blast Off.

Vortex offlined his optics.

\---

Despite Blast Off’s anti-grav mechanism, the landing was quite bumpy. Vortex clung to the net on the cargo hold door, and was glad when he saw the hangar ceiling closing in on Blast Off’s windows.

Vortex’ grasp for support didn’t help him when Blast Off initiated his transformation sequence.

There was no word of warning, but Vortex was already used to that by now. And right then, the ‘copter wasn’t even angry about it

He felt still weird, like his body didn't belong to him, and he could only imagine how Blast Off felt.

Ungracefully, Vortex landed when the floor beneath him vanished, parts folded together mechanometers away from him. Unlike Vortex, after the transformation Blast Off didn’t land on his feet. The shuttle stumbled and went down to his knees before he sat on the concrete ground, holding his side.

Vortex hurried to him while trying not to make it look urgent. He’d seen the wound, and he could only guess how bad the damage was. It had to be pretty awful if Blast Off sat down in the middle of the landing area of all places.

Vortex reached the slumped Blast Off only moments before the staff member was at the runway. The puddle of energon on the ground spoke for itself, and Vortex didn’t need to ask how the shuttle was. 

“Excuse me?” the approaching femme asked.

Vortex and Blast Off looked up at.

It was another shuttle, blue-white frame with two pairs of wings at her back, and winglets on her wrists. After a quick assessment, Vortex knew she wasn’t armed.

“What are you doing here? We didn’t give you landing permission,” she said sternly. 

“Landing permission my aft, Vortex spat. “You see he’s damaged. Who are you?” He didn’t have the patience for that. He needed to bring Blast Off somewhere to be repaired.

“I’m Alnilam of Altihex, representative of Altihex’ government. We don’t need random shuttles landing wherever they want. This is an airport for on-planet air travel only. You better have a good reason for your behaviour.”

Vortex’ optics flickered. Now he realised that it didn’t look like Altihex’ spaceport. “Where the slag are we?” he wondered aloud.

It was Blast Off who answered. “Polyhex.”

Vortex tensed.

Then Blast Off addressed the shuttle femme. “I’m Blast Off from HEX. It was an emergency re-entry, as you can see, I’m damaged. I got injured while travelling through a space portal.”

Vortex was kind of amazed that Blast Off still kept his composure after that incident.

“We had an Encounter code nine nine four point alpha Q,” he added, and the femme’s optics widened in shock. She looked from Blast Off to Vortex and back.

“I see. Your documents seemed to have been lost; I’ll take care of that issue immediately.” She nodded towards Blast Off, then addressed Vortex. “Can you take care of him and bring him to a clinic? Alternatively I could call support, but this will require more paperwork and attesting how the injury happened.” It didn’t appear as though she was fond of the idea. And Blast Off apparently wasn’t, either.

“No, we’re fine,” the shuttle replied before Vortex could. It wasn’t that the ‘copter would have been particularly eager to talk to other authorities, especially not if the possibility was pretty high they knew about his criminal background. He still wondered why neither Blast Off nor the femme wanted to talk about the incident.

Vortex shuddered again. The memories of the ghostly tendrils and surreal sensation overwhelmingly present.

Maybe he did understand. 

His train of thought was interrupted by Blast Off groaning as he tried to come to his feet. Vortex stepped towards him, but stopped, not touching the shuttle yet.

“You want me to help?”

Blast Off nodded, but his engine revved. He didn’t sound well. The femme’s wings twitched. She looked at the tower; she was talking over comm.

“I have to go. Please hurry and leave the area, or I'll have no choice but to report you.”

“Okay,” Vortex took Blast Off’s arm and laid it over his shoulders. “C’mon, Thrusters. I know a place where we can get repairs.”

The femme shuttle smiled, and left with a quick wave of her hand.

Slowly, Vortex helped Blast Off to the arrival gate. The hangar was loud. Jet engines thrummed, people talked and grounders transported luggage and cargo. Not being in the middle of a large runway any longer, Vortex and Blast Off mingled with the workers.

Blast Off’s energy field was drawn close, but Vortex still sensed the other’s troubled state of mind.

“You’re heavy,” Vortex said with a grin, trying to lift the mood.

Blast Off huffed. “I’ll get lighter soon. I’m losing energon”

Vortex couldn’t hinder a soft snicker. “You give _dead_ pan a whole new meaning.”

Blast Off chuckled silently, only noticeably in the soft tremor of his frame.

Good, the shuttle didn’t growl or snap at Vortex, even though his humour was probably merely to cover his discomfort. 

“That way.” Blast Off pointed with his unoccupied hand in a direction. “Let’s take the back exit.”

Vortex would have shrugged if Blast Off wasn’t leaning on him. “Is there any airport on Cybertron you don’t know?”

“You make it sound like it’s a bad thing.”

Vortex grinned. “Wow, you picked up on that?”

“Be careful, or I might hit you.”

“And then what?” Vortex was joking just like Blast Off was. “You know I wouldn’t mind. Not to mention you'd fall over if I dropped you. I have leverage over you.”

Blast Off puffed air from his vents. “You’re deluding yourself.”

“Pah.” Vortex playfully nudged Blast Off’s side where it wasn’t torn, and earned himself an engine rumble.

\---

Crackdown lay on the sofa in the living room. The TV screen flickered in the dim light from the show she wasn’t really interested in. She’d only agreed to watch it because Skycraze was eager to see what happened in that episode, but now the ‘copter was in recharge. She was draped on her front over Crackdown, her arm dangling down and rotors shivering ever so slightly.

Crackdown smiled, absent-mindedly stroking her partner’s back.

She would have liked to stay like that for a while longer, but the ping of the door made her wince in surprise.

It was already late, and Skycraze hadn’t had any complicated jobs for some time, so it shouldn’t be the police. Crackdown frowned.

The door pinged again, and she sighed.

Struggling to free herself without waking Skycraze, Crackdown stood up. Before she reached the door, it pinged again, and despite her calm and patient nature, it started to annoy her.

She pushed the 'open' button, ready to give the person on the other side a good talking-to. When the door slid aside, Crackdown stamped on her vocaliser.

She was greeted by the view of a grey heliformer covered in energon. For the first moment it was like looking at Skycraze's dead, grey frame, and she couldn’t supress the shudder.

She forced herself to regain her composure. It was only Skycraze's colleague, Vortex. She ought to have recognised him from the start, they'd met more than once. And he wasn’t dead, the red glowing visor clean on that.

“Evening,” the ‘copter said, appearing exhausted. Next to the smeared energon on his side, he was covered in what seemed energon drops from high velocity hits; they were so small.

“What-,” Crackdown began, but stopped. “Well, hello, I guess. What do you want?”

“Skycraze owes me. I want to call in that favour.”

Crackdown frowned. She remembered the incident when she’d been away and couldn’t help Skycraze to clean up a mess. In the end Vortex had helped her, but for the price of a favour. It seemed that everything the grey ‘copter did was for a price. Crackdown didn’t like it.

“She’s in recharge. What do you need?”

“Repairs and energon.“

An engine gargled, and it wasn’t Vortex’.

“Can we come in then?” the ‘copter urged, but was already crossing the threshold.

Crackdown stepped aside. Skycraze would probably be relieved that the favour was called in, and the request didn’t seem so bad. But still- “What do you mean, ‘we’?”

“Excuse me,” someone else said, his voice sophisticated but tired.

A large figure appeared in the doorframe, blocking out the light of the streetlamps. Black fingers wrapped around the side and upper edge of the frame as though for support.

“I apologise for his manners,” the mech said as he ducked down to enter the apartment. “He has none.” 

Crackdown stared. She was already quite tall, for a grounder anyway. She towered over Skycraze and Vortex by a head, but this guy didn’t even fit through the door.

“I’m Blast Off,” he said with a nod, and leant next to the door. Crackdown knew the name. Skycraze had told her about him. Something about Vortex being with him only not, but she hadn’t really cared.

She did care about what she was seeing now, though. His side was torn open, dried energon down his leg. It still wasn’t the nicest of views. And with it came a cold shudder running down her back.

“You,” she turned to Vortex who had just sat down on one of the chairs at the table, “go to the storage, it's the white door on the next floor down. Get the tool kit and spare lines.”

“Huh?” was the surprised reply.

Crackdown revved her engine. She wasn't about to do all the work herself. “Move your aft, or I'll kick it all the way to Iacon.”

Vortex jumped off the chair. “Okay, okay,“ he muttered, and staggered in the indicated direction. His rotors moved, only not. For a moment, he appeared blurry, and it wasn’t because of Crackdown’s optics. She rebooted them anyway.

The shuttle huffing made Crackdown turn to him, and she dismissed it as illusion.

“Don’t use a threat like that. He’d probably like it. He’s glitched.”

“Tsk.” Crackdown shook her head. “And you be quiet and sit down. You look like you’re gonna faint any astrosecond.” The shuttle wasn’t grey, but there was a pale shimmer on his plating that wasn’t paint or dust.

Blast Off puffed air from his vents again, but didn’t reply. He only slid down the wall, his hand pressed to his side.

With an exaggerated sigh, Crackdown got to the cabinet, and took out cleanser and energon. In the background she heard the shuttle taking off the damaged plates. He hissed.

When she returned to him, she saw his sluggish movements. It was obvious that he had lost a lot energon already, and so the first thing she did was hand him a cube. 

“Drink that.”

He took the energon with a brief nod. Their fingers touched, and his energy field was oddly cold.

“I’ll have to clean out the damage,” she added, distracting herself from the feeling that something was off. “It might burn a little, because we don’t have medical cleanser in the house. Can you move your arm away?” She was about to get down, but froze mid-movement.

“I’ll do that!” Vortex insisted, reappearing. He stood still in the doorway, and his tone made it sound like Crackdown didn't ought to argue with him. She shrugged. She wouldn’t be upset not having to feel that energy signature again.

“Are you okay with that?” she asked the shuttle who had his optics offline.

“I don’t care.” Blast Off’s shoulders twitched. “I’m not really with it anyway.”

“If you drank that energon, you’d already feel better.” At least that was what she hopped. She stepped aside to make room for Vortex to crouch next to Blast Off. He put down the tools and spare parts with a loud clatter.

Crackdown glanced at the couch; any more of that and they'd wake Skycraze.

“Why’re you on the floor?” the ‘copter asked as he started working on the shuttle’s side.

The shuttle didn’t answer, he just drank from the cube, but his engine revved. It made Vortex giggle.

Crackdown sighed, and went to the cabinet again. She contemplated carrying Skycraze to their room before she woke up, but a familiar stutter of vents told Crackdown that it was already too late.

An arm emerged from behind the back rest to pull herself up, followed by a sleepy helm. “Wassup?”

“Just stay there, everything’s under control,” Crackdown said. She leant against the table with her own cube of energon, glancing sideways at Vortex and the shuttle now and then.

“Huh…” Skycraze put her chin on the back rest. “What are they doing here? Why are they sitting on the floor?”

“They’re calling in your favour.” Crackdown answered for Vortex, who seemed busy tinkering in Blast Off’s innards. There was a pile of used clothes next to them, coloured pink from the energon.

With a groan, Skycraze stood up, and drowsily lurched towards Crackdown. Her partner opened her arms to let Skycraze lean onto and hug her. “I’m cold,” the ‘copter said, her rotors wilted as he snuggled closer. She shouldn’t be; the room was warm.

Crackdown smiled.

//Why didn’t you wake me up?// Skycraze commed her.

//They only asked for repairs and energon. But seeing the shuttle, I guess they’ll also need a place to stay for the night. Vortex called in the favour you owed him.// Crackdown went back to stroking Skycraze’s back idly.

//Hrmm,// It was a mutter over the comm that made Crackdown grin. //And they need a shower, too. I don’t wanna have to clean the guest berth because of them.// 

//Heh, don’t pretend to be grumpy. I know you like Vortex. You’d have offered him a berth and shower anyway.// Flaring her field faintly, Crackdown pinched a tip of a rotor blade. It was reassuring.

//Maybe. But it’s even better if I’m not in his debt any longer. We can just make him believe he’s unwelcome, or he might not leave again.//

Vortex and Blast Off muttered something that Crackdown couldn’t understand, but the shuttle’s engine revved to a growl.

“You know I need to do that. C’mon, it’s only one more line,” the grey ‘copter uttered, annoyed, and got an equally annoyed reply.

“Most of the damage is repaired,” the shuttle argued. “It was already better when I transformed. And why do you bother now? If I transform again, it’ll be ripped open anyway.”

“Frag you and your mass shifting-“

“You only want to touch me.”

“Aren’t they adorable,” Skycraze interrupted their argument, and caused both mechs to look up. “Why didn’t you go to an emergency clinic anyway?”

“I’m asking that myself,” the shuttle grumbled. “It couldn’t have been more embarrassing than sitting in a stranger’s apartment on the floor.”

“We’re not strangers,” Skycraze insisted. Crackdown decided to be the voice of reason.

“You do know that the emergency clinics don’t treat non-Polyhexian. Or if they do, they wait there for joors.” Crackdown didn’t like the policy of the EMs, but they had their reasons. Most of the work done in Polyhex was physically challenging, so they used their limited supplies for the city’s inhabitants. “And look at him,” she continued. “He’s an alpha. They’d have probably ignored him - in the most positive outcome.”

“Hehe,” Vortex laughed. “It’s slag being an alpha in a working class city, isn’t it?”

Blast Off’s optics brightened. “It’s slag being a planet bound trapped in space only protected by a sentient vessel, isn’t it? I’ll remember your words next time we’re off planet.”

Vortex’ rotors froze.

Crackdown frowned, and Skycraze tilted her head. There was more to that argument, but Crackdown decided not to dig deeper. Unfortunately, she was too slow to ask Skycraze to leave the issue alone as well.

“So, what happened to you two anyway? You bring a laser scalpel to a gunfight?”

“I have guns on my feet. It’s hard to lose or forget them,” Blast Off countered.

“You know how I am with laser scalpels,” Vortex replied, smugly, but it wasn’t hard to see they were trying to change the subject.

“Then how did you get damaged?”

//Let them be,// Crackdown reprimanded her partner, but she was skilfully ignored.

“You’re gonna tell us, or what? You’re drinking our energon. And maybe we’ll let you use the washracks and recharge in the guest room.”

Vortex settled down opposite Blast Off, avoiding looking up at Skycraze and Crackdown. Blast Off was busy welding the gap in his plating.

“We were attacked in space,” the shuttle said.

“Oh!” Skycraze perked up, and loosened the embrace around Crackdown. “By monsters?”

Crackdown saw the two mechs exchanging looks.

“No,” it was Blast Off again. “Space is a dangerous place even without monsters.”

“Oh.” Crackdown knew Skycraze was disappointed, but she couldn’t help but think that the shuttle might not have been telling the truth. She didn’t voice her suspicion. She was a grounder, with a grounder mind. She didn’t need to know about what they had encountered, what made them appear wrong for some reason.

“Can you get up now?” Vortex asked when he himself got to his feet. 

The shuttle nodded, and used the wall for support. The gap in the metal wasn’t completely sealed, but at least the cables weren’t visible any longer.

“The washracks are down the corridor the last door on the left. The guest room is right opposite it.” Crackdown pointed at the door. “We’ll put you some more energon in the room.”

Vortex was already by the door. Blast Off nodded. He pushed himself off the wall, and staggered. Grabbing the table for purchase, it trembled under the weight.

The shuttle’s energy field flared in surprise and this cold underlying frequency that Crackdown couldn’t place.

“Sorry,” the shuttle muttered, straightening himself, before he limped towards Vortex.

“You need more help?” the ‘copter asked, grinning, and the last thing they saw before the door closed was Blast Off trying to hit Vortex.

Skycraze's field flared. “Blast Off was lying.” She looked up, meeting Crackdown’s optics.

“I think so, too.”

“And there’s something not right with them. They look… weird.”

Crackdown tensed. “When I first saw him I thought Vortex was you only dead.”

Skycraze grimaced. “Wow, that’s creepy.”

Venting deep, Crackdown shrugged. “Let’s try to forget it and get them some energon.” The grounder hoped that whatever unworldly had hit them would leave the two mechs again soon.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vortex and Blast Off have an encounter in space, and Vortex learns that there are some things you can’t fight. Now they have to deal with the aftermath.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Continuity:** G1 [part of the [Dysfunction AU](http://community.livejournal.com/lost_carcosa/19574.html#cutid1)], pre-war  
>  **Characters:** Vortex, Blast Off, Skycraze (OC), Crackdown (OC)  
>  **Rating:** R  
>  **Disclaimer:** Sadly, nothing is mine.  
>  **Beta:** ultharkitty
> 
>  **Note:** Mentions of the fic [Testing Ground](http://archiveofourown.org/works/993289).

Vortex dodged Blast Off’s idle punch. His snicker died down as soon as the door to the living room was closed.

He saw Blast Off’s shoulder slump and the limping increase. The shuttle put one hand on the wall as he slowly walked along the corridor, and Vortex had to resist probing to see if Blast Off needed help. He knew it would only irritate him if he asked again.

Vortex pretended not to see it all, and entered the washracks first.

They were about as big as the ones in Blast Off’s apartment. Vortex decided that if he had to move again, he’d get an apartment with washracks so huge he’d be able to transform in them.

They didn’t talk as they cleaned themselves off.

Vortex didn’t comment on Blast Off’s ailerons clicking, or the heat shields on his back shifting.

Blast Off had turned the cleaning liquid temperature so high it steamed and made the wires and circuits under Vortex’ plating heat up.

He didn’t comment on that either.

He just watched.

Blast Off’s optics were offline, and while his frame was clean now, energon still mingled on the floor with the cleanser, flowing out of the shuttle’s leg.

Vortex’ rotors gave a twitch.

One blade was close to a winglet on Blast Off’s upper arm, but Vortex couldn’t sense the other’s energy field. It was drawn close, he guessed - hoped -when his own field was hardly noticeable to himself. The heat of the cleaners downed out the sensation of his own signature which was cold and unreal. It didn’t seem to belong to him, and Vortex became most aware of it now when he had nothing else to distract him.

Poking in inner mechanisms earlier hadn’t been truly exciting, not as it was Blast Off he had to work on, but at least he’d had something to occupy his mind.

Now his thoughts caught up on Vortex, reminding him that he’d repaired damage that had been caused in space. On the inside of Blast Off’s cargo hold.

It was as though someone had taken away the sense of security that Vortex had just taken for granted in space. Worse even, the security that he’d taken granted that was provided by Blast Off. The shuttle appeared so solid, it was uncomfortable to have his illusion destroyed like this.

Vortex’ glance dropped down to the welded metal on the side, and his rotors gave another twitch.

No, he definitely didn’t like the view or knowing how it happened.

Vortex shuffled his rotors down, the bent one aching at the movement, and he stepped out of the stream. His plating was so warm by now, the liquid would evaporate within a few kliks without needing the dryer.

“You’re coming?” Vortex asked.

Blast Off didn’t move. He just turned his head, optics dim. “In a moment.”

Wordlessly, Vortex nodded, and left Blast Off alone, standing motionlessly under the shower.

\---

Vortex entered the guest room, and the first thing he saw was the huge berth. It looked used, as though it had been shuffled into the spare when Crackdown and Skycraze had got themselves a new one. He didn’t really care.

His second glance went to the four cubes of energon on the night stand.

Vortex took a cube, and settled on the head end of the berth, drawing his legs close. Eventually, while trying to relax, the soreness caught up on him. Having been flung around inside Blast Off’s cargo hold had left his mechanisms aching. He’d been able to ignore it till now, like he’d ignored other things, too.

Vortex sighed. Focusing on the painful sensations, he wanted them to distract him. But without the heat of the shower, the cold crawled back up his spine. It was as though the ghostly tendrils still waited somewhere, ready to get him.

He didn’t dare offline his optics. It was stupid, but being alone didn’t help the lingering feeling of imminent danger.

The door opened with a soft whoosh and made Vortex flinch. He almost spilled his energon. He was glad that Blast Off didn’t seem to have seen it.

The shuttle just sat down on the edge of the berth, just out of arm's reach from Vortex, and polished the heat shield on his wrist. Reaching behind him, Vortex took another energon cube and held it out to Blast Off.

“Here, you need to refuel,” he said, knowing very well how much the other hated being told to drink. “You lost a lot of energon,” Vortex added just in case. He didn’t want Blast Off becoming angry. 

The shuttle took the cube wordlessly with a brief nod. 

He didn’t drink. Like Vortex, Blast Off just sat there with his energon, staring at nothing.

Vortex didn’t like it. The atmosphere was weird, cold somehow, as if they’d never left the portal.

“I don’t have much of an appetite either,” the ‘copter said, and took a little sip. The energon was surprisingly tasteless, fresh on his glossa, but not as bitter as Vortex had expected it to be. Once all ran down his lines, the refreshing sensation was gone, and with it the desire to drink more. “This sucks.” Vortex puffed air from his vents, as a frown built behind his visor.

Blast Off didn’t react. He inhaled air deeply before he began drinking. He emptied his cube in one go.

Vortex tilted his head.

The shuttle glanced at him from the side. “Drink it without putting it down. It’ll take a while till the taste comes back.” 

“Great,” Vortex muttered annoyed. “Now I’m officially not happy about this situation. And I probably don’t want to know why _you_ know that about the taste.”

The shuttle shrugged.

Vortex downed his cube. Once the energon was gone and his system started to process it, he felt better. Warmer, almost, even though the weirdly surreal atmosphere around them remained.

For a while, they just sat there. Vortex played with his energon cube, and Blast Off rested his elbows on his thighs.

“Okay then,” Vortex asked after the moment of silence. “Just tell me. Why do you know it?” Talking about things he might not want to know was still better than no talking at all. The quiet surroundings grated on him.

Blast Off turned his head fully, looking at him. “Why do I know what?”

Wow, the shuttle had already forgotten what they were talking about. Vortex couldn’t be annoyed. It was visible how tired and exhausted Blast Off was.

“I mean why you know that it takes a bit till the taste comes back.”

Blast Off shrugged. “I’ve been there before. It’s not the first time I've seen it.”

Vortex tensed. If that happened more than one time already, he’d now think about encountering that thing every time he’d fly through a space portal. It wasn’t something Vortex was looking forward to. Maybe he’d ask one of his contacts to erase that memory from his processor.

He shuddered at that idea. But that didn’t sound like the best solution either. Still, unlike Blast Off who needed that memory because it was valuable experience in space and probably saved his aft the next time, Vortex didn’t need it.

“How many times?” Vortex asked.

“I don’t know? A few?”

That wasn’t a very precise answer, but it was probably not so important. “Then, what was it?” It hadn’t looked like anything that Vortex had seen before. Not that it meant much if it was for Blast Off who always emphasised planet bounds had no clue of space anyway.

“I don’t know.”

That wasn’t the answer Vortex wanted to hear. “What do you mean _you don’t know_?”

Blast Off huffed. “Till now no one ever stopped and asked it for its name, if you mean that. As you experienced yourself, it’s not a particularly pleasant thing to encounter.”

“But,” Vortex began, “have you never wanted to know what it is? I mean, if you’ve seen it a few times already and other apparently did too, why didn’t you, I don’t know, do your science stuff on it.” 

“Science stuff?” Blast Off replied with an audible frown.

“Yeah, your research stuff, xenological scrap and things like that. Did no one ever want to know what they’re running into?” Vortex would. He would feel better if he knew what that thing was. A foe that had a name was like a foe that had a face. It would become something you can fight.

“No,” was the single word answer, and it made Vortex almost angry.

“But-“ he began.

“Vortex,” Blast Off interrupted him in his tone that didn’t leave any room for protest. “Believe me when I say that there are things out there about which you _do not_ want to know.”

Vortex revved his engine. He hated it when Blast Off treated him like he was a dumb grounder that didn’t know anything. He’d been to war, he’d seen awful things, too. Only that most of them hadn’t been _that_ awful to him.

He was tempted to ask what these things were that were so creepy shuttleformers didn’t want to find out what they were, and that was an oxymoron in itself. And confusing. He resisted. That was something Vortex would save for another time when Blast Off was in a better mood.

The silence came back, only two everyday systems hummed softly in the quiet room, and made the coldness from before become more real. Even though he was no longer alone, Vortex had the nagging feeling that the tendrils would come back.

Vortex’ rotors twitched.

He took a second cube, and forced half of it down.

He looked at Blast Off. The shuttle’s visor was dim, his posture relaxed as much as he ever was. The plate of the heat shield on his back had stopped moving, and the ailerons didn’t click any longer.

Unlike Vortex, he didn’t seem troubled. At least not as troubled as he was shortly after re-entry. Vortex remembered when Skycraze had asked if Blast Off was scared of monsters in space. It’d been that time Skycraze had met the shuttle for the first time. But Blast Off had lied to the femme ‘copter tonight about the monster, so perhaps he’d done so that time, too.

“Were you scared? I mean in the portal?” Vortex didn’t want to be the only one who was still wary and uncomfortable as not to call it frightened.

As though not expecting the question, Blast Off tilted his head. “I don’t know.” The shuttle shrugged. “I guess no, I wasn’t.”

Vortex raised an optical ridge. “Why? Don’t tell me you’re already used to that thing.”

Blast Off puffed air from his vents. “Fortunately not. I just,” he shrugged again, seeming to ponder on his next words. “I’m not capable of being scared?” It sounded insecure, and not like Blast Off.

Vortex wasn’t sure what to do with that information. He filed it away, not truly surprised. 

“Like, you’re immune to fear?” He knew Blast Off had some, often obvious, deficits when it came to emotions, but he’d never thought being afraid came into that.

Blast Off shook his head. “Not immune. I do feel fear, just not often. I mean, sometimes, but,” he shrugged once again, “not because of _that_. Do you know what I mean?”

It wasn’t difficult to see that Blast Off wasn’t very comfortable talking about this. Vortex wondered why he’d mention it in the first place. If Vortex was fair, he’d drop the topic, but now he was nosy. 

“No, I don’t know.”

Blast Off let out a prolonged sigh. “I mean there are other things which are actually worth being afraid of.”

“And this didn’t get to you at all?” Vortex asked, very well knowing what the shuttle’s energy signature had been like.

“I didn’t say that. I’m just saying that there’re worse things out there than that.” Blast Off leant over and took the last cube from the night stand, cracking it open.

Vortex sipped his own energon; it still tasted like nothing. His visor was fixed on his cube, but his optics flicked to the slumped shuttle, eyeing him up. Worse things than the one in the portal, Vortex thought. His rotors twitched again, and he suppressed shuddering at that knowledge. He couldn’t help but ask himself how Blast Off stayed sane. His emotional deficits probably helped, but still…

Maybe shuttleformers had something like an insanity-proof processor? Vortex almost laughed at this as he thought of Heliopause. No, they probably didn’t have mechanisms against madness.

“I know you’re staring,” Blast Off said, looking back at Vortex. He didn’t seem angry. “What is it now?”

“That thing came out of nowhere, how can that be not worth being afraid of,” Vortex said, returning to the former topic as not to tell what he was really thinking about. He doubted that Blast Off would appreciate it.

“It didn’t come from nowhere. You’re still thinking about what it was?” the shuttle asked, not annoyed, but the tone indicated that he was slowly losing his patience.

“Yeah, well, yes.” Vortex shifted a little, pressing his rotors against the wall. The sore mechanisms in his back produced a pleasant ache. “If you don’t know what it is, how do you know where it comes from and isn’t worthy your fear?”

Blast Off’s optics dimmed. The shuttle rubbed over them, shaking his head. “Vortex…” he muttered tiredly.

“Yes? I’m listening.”

Blast Off sighed. At least he wasn’t punching Vortex for being antagonising. “Seriously Vortex, I’m too tired for this. We’re in no state to either explain or understand this. So please, just stop.”

For once, it didn’t sound condescending. Not as though Blast Off was bragging with his knowledge. The shuttle’s voice was resigned.

Vortex still didn’t let go of the topic. “If it’s not from nowhere, but you don’t know what it is, where is it from? Does it only pop up in this one tunnel?”

“That-“ Blast Off began, but Vortex interrupted him.

“Don’t ‘Vortex’ me again. I’m just trying to understand that's all. It’s kinda unsettling, you know? I mean, I didn’t actually ask to run into some tentacle ghost monster.”

“I didn’t intend to ‘Vortex’ you,” Blast Off said, and huffed, a hint of amusement in his voice. “Will you be satisfied if I tell you it shows up only in portals?”

Vortex shrugged. “I guess I have to, but it doesn’t make me feel much better.”

“How space portals work is a complicated process that adds to why we could encounter this thing in any space portal. It has to do with probability theory, quantum physics, and something Cybertronians don’t have a name for yet,” Blast Off explained, his tone as though he was making just a little fun of Vortex. “You still want me to elaborate further?”

“No, I guess you’re right when you said we’re neither in a state to explain nor understand it at the moment.” The ‘copter grimaced. It was like admitting not having any clue about physics, which might be true, but Vortex didn’t want to let the shuttle win this round. He added with a smirk. “I’ll remember to ask you about it later.”

Blast Off replied in an amused tone. “Do that. I’ll happily oblige and explain the complex process to you.”

“Aft-head,” Vortex replied, not being serious, and poking Blast Off’s thigh with his foot. 

Blast Off’s engine rumbled low, but the shuttle didn’t complain.

“Heh,” Blast Off uttered a dry laugh, the tiniest grin on his lips, “I like your description – tentacle ghost monster.”

Vortex returned the grin. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

Blast Off looked at him; his visor brightened for a fraction of an astrosecond, then he shook his head.

Silence fell over them once again, but this time it was welcome. 

Vortex’ rotors still twitched every so often from the tension in his hub. The sense of imminent danger was gone, but the cold remained like a virus cruising Vortex’ systems.

He nudged Blast Off’s hip with his foot again. The shuttle didn’t react.

Only when Vortex touched the shuttle’s thigh with his pede, making it a slow stroking along the metal, Blast Off’s look flicked to the movement on his side. He caught Vortex’ foot, holding it, but wasn’t squeezing.

“Don’t,” Blast Off mumbled groggily.

“Why not?” Vortex flared his field – an invitation.

“I’m tired.” Strong shuttle shoulders shrugged. Blast Off glanced up, looking at Vortex twitching rotors. “I’m in no condition to do _that_.”

Vortex tipped his head to a side. “To do what?”

“You know,” Blast Off said, looking away, “push you around and stuff like that.”

That made Vortex grin even wider. It was unusual, but how Blast Off tried to avoid calling things by their true name was almost adorable.

“So, that’s what you call it now? Pushing me around?” Vortex replied, edging a little closer to the shuttle and freeing his foot to get to his knees.

Blast Off frowned.

Vortex leant in, their faces so close, they could see each other’s optics. “You could also just say being forceful. Pressing my hands down - me down - with all your weight.” He let his field flare again, stronger this time. It ground against Blast Off’s and there wasn’t the usual heat. Clenching his jaw, Vortex touched the other’s hip lightly, stroking a transformation seam with his fingers. “You can just call it dominating me, I won’t mind.”

Blast Off tensed. His optics behind the visor glanced down, then back at Vortex. “Whatever you call it, I’m still in no condition to do anything like that tonight.” He raised his hand, and Vortex knew what it meant.

The ‘copter caught it mid-air, before it touched Vortex’ frame to push him away. “I don’t care.” He didn’t particularly want Blast Off to forcefully push him down, to immobilise him and growl orders at him. “I mean, I don’t care what you give me. Just give me whatever you want.” Vortex’ hand guided Blast Off’s to the ‘copter’s side, to his interface panel. “I just wanna get warm again. And don’t tell me you don’t want to.”

This time it was Blast Off’s field that flared. His optics roved over Vortex’ plating, and that alone made Vortex’ rotors shiver.

Blast Off’s field extended again as he turned a little, leaving his hand on the interface panel while placing the other on Vortex’ chest.

Vortex let Blast Off push him down, fingers curling around the metal of Blast Off’s upper arm when he lay down on his back. The shuttle leaned over him, their energy field pulsating in a steady rhythm. 

The clicks of interface panels opening was followed by the clicks of connector plugging in. It was so familiar by now, like a hardwired subroutine Vortex didn’t question.

Vortex arched up, urging Blast Off to press him down with his weight. The shuttle could barely hold himself up, and Vortex couldn’t care less. He welcomed it with their connection buzzing between them and the proximity causing the shuttle’s hot ventilation to blow over him.

Cooling systems worked loudly while Vortex still sensed this underlying coldness that he wanted to make vanish.

Their energy fields mingled to one, producing a hot rush on sensor nodes that remained and throbbed around them. Another boundary disappeared, causing more intimate closeness, and Vortex clung to Blast Off. Arms wrapped around the shuttle’s neck; his fingers scratched over ceramic tiles and dug into transformation seams. 

The shuttle’s bulk vibrated from his systems, his engine and arousal. The ceramic was cold, a contrast to the thick metal plates that were solid and strong and heavy. A frame build for space, to survive out there and protect his passengers from the deadening void around.

Vortex shuddered more strongly, clutching, and reminded himself of Blast Off’s alt-mode strength. They had come back, there was no reason to worry, and there was no freezing cold any more when boiling heat spilled through the interface and made Vortex melt.

Pictures flickered in his HUD. A light so bright it was as if his optical sensors would burn out. It was almost painful, but the good kind of pain. The kind that made Vortex’ rotors quiver even more before they dissolved under the hot sensations that Blast Off sent.

Vortex buried his face in Blast Off’s throat, muttering incoherently and urging the shuttle on not to stop, to keep it up and destroy him inside with all his charge.

And Blast Off did just that. The shuttle’s engine was loud, still strained from the ordeal, and his exhaustion was readable in the energy signature but was almost drowned out by arousal.

Vortex gave up thinking, and let himself fall, immersed in the sensations until everything stopped. It was like earlier when time had flowed more slowly, but the reason was the exact opposite from then - no threat or cold and life-draining sensation.

It was gone much too soon and reality caught up. It crashed back on Vortex and the awareness obliterated that the warmth had been purely physical.

Blast Off still sent the imaginings of piercing radiation, but the cold came back. It snuck into Vortex’ frame once again from an unknown place and settled.

His vocaliser gave a staticky whine against Blast Off’s neck cables, and his hands curled to fists pressed against the shuttle’s back.

Blast Off’s hand wandered from the heliformer’s waist down between the berth’s covering and the small of Vortex’ back. The thumb stroked the smooth metal there, making Vortex arch into the shuttle.

Cooling fans worked furiously, their side vents sucking in cold air as the heat hung between them, chest to chest with no way to cool their frames.

Blast Off gave a deep, soft huff before he rolled on his side, dragging Vortex with him and holding him close. Their front plating was almost flush against another and their legs intertwined.

The cold was back.

Vortex despised it.

“Why didn’t it kill us right away,” Vortex muttered angrily, more to himself than to the shuttle.

He felt Blast Off giving a shrug, only then realising that his optics were still offline. He had no reason to activate them.

“I don’t think it ever kills,” Blast Off answered. “It takes something else from us.”

Vortex shuddered, but not in pleasure this time. 

Their energy field was still one, soothing around them, the interface still established. Blast Off hadn’t disconnected them, and hadn’t complained about it. Systems pinged each other, reassuring them that they weren’t alone.

Forcing himself to relax, Vortex sighed. He curled closer against Blast Off and focused on the low vibrations until he was in recharge.

\---

It was late in the morning already. If Cybertron still had had its star, it would have been almost at its zenith by now.

Crackdown sat on a chair in the main room, reading from a datapad and looking at the door of the hallway for the eighteenth time.

“Do you want to wake them?” Skycraze asked from the couch, grinning. “I can’t hear anything, so I don’t think we’re gonna interrupt them.” She gave a short snicker, and stood up.

“Thank you,” Crackdown growled. “I really didn’t need that image.”

“Awww, c’mon. They don't look that bad.”

Crackdown shook her head, but grined. “If I disagree with you, you’ll get mad. He has the same frame as you.”

Skycraze stuck out her glossa, and stood up. “Let’s wake them. I don’t wanna leave the house with them still sleeping here.”

With a nod, the blue femme got to her feet as well.

They didn’t worry about being quiet when they walked in the little hallway, or when they opened the door to the guest room.

Their noise didn’t seem to bother Blast Off and Vortex at all. The shuttle and heliformer were still in recharge even with Crackdown and Skycraze standing at the door.

The two mechs clung to each other, legs a tangled mess and faces hidden in dark chest plating and against a grey helm. Cables were visible, a mutual connection, perhaps from an interface.

Crackdown tilted her head. She hadn’t heard anything last night, but it was certainly better that way.

The mechs appeared less ghostly than last evening. The odd feeling Crackdown had had around them was still there, but it wasn’t as present as before.

She relaxed. “Seems like they won’t wake up for another few joors.”

Skycraze shrugged quietly.

“I guess we can get leave and run errands then,” she added, and turned to leave.

“Yeah, guess so,” Skycraze huffed, and closed the door behind her, muttering to herself. “Not with the shuttle my aft.”


End file.
